Page 32 of Claimed By the Don

She speaks into her walkie-talkie, tells me, “Just a minute,” and moves on to the next car. A few kids come out, but there’s no sign of my son. A couple of minutes pass and I jump out of my car, heart racing, and head into the school. I brush past the woman at the sign-in desk and head for the office.

“I need Liam Cooper,” I say, “He never came out for pick-up.” I sound breathless and frantic, not calm and polite like I meant to do.

The secretary finishes a phone call and turns her attention to me in the busy office. I repeat what I need. She frowns for a second, refers to a clipboard and holds it out to me.

“Liam was signed out at 2:15 today,” she says.

“That’s impossible. My mom is at work and she’s the only other person authorized to pick him up. Are you sure it’s—” I scan the paper and see a signature scrawled beside my son’s name.

“There must be some sort of mix-up, because his teacher had a message from you on the class app saying he’d be picked up early by his uncle.”

“He doesn’t have an uncle!” I say, terror making me see spots. “I didn’t message her about that. Look—in the app it shows—” I stop and read a message sent from my parent account asking her to pack him up at two because his uncle was going to surprise him and pick him up. I grip the edge of the desk to keep from falling to my knees. “Who did you let take my son? Check the camera! Did you get his ID or anything?”

She picks up her phone and in seconds the principal and the school security officer are with me, taking me into an office and giving me a chair and a bottle of water. My head is swimming. It has the unreal quality of a nightmare. Liam is gone. They’re assuring me about their security protocols and question whether I forgot I sent the message. I argue that someone got into my account, and I know I sound crazy. I grab my phone and do the only thing I know to do.

I call his father. The second he picks up the phone I start crying.

“Benny, I need you. Please. I need you to come to the school. Bring Liam back right now!” I try to tell him which school and eventually the security officer takes my phone and gives him the address.

When I get the phone back, I want to scream into it. I shout at him to bring my son back. The school nurse comes in andstarts to talk to me in the soothing voice I assume she reserves for people in full-scale panic. I take deep breaths to calm myself down, but nothing is working. Benny found out about our son and now he’s punishing me.

22

BENNY

Knee-deep in damage control, I get a call from Daisy. Any other time I would’ve been thrilled to hear from her. This was not the time. I answer it reflexively. She’s hysterical, yells at me about some school and then a guy gets on the phone and gives me an address.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” I tell him. “I can’t come down there now. You should call her mom.” I hang up and get back to work.

My dad is gone, and Grigo thinks he can get a bigger slice of our territory if not all of it. He’s brash enough and dumb enough to believe he can break me or push me aside by assassinating my father. I have men across the city keeping tabs on every member of his faction, and he’ll be run to ground by midnight. It takes me less than two hours to convene a meeting at my offices of all the major players, the heavy hitters in the organization and the up-and-coming guys as well.

No meatball subs this time, and no making nice. I gather them, maybe eighteen or twenty people I’ve known my whole life, in the board room.

I barely stop myself in time as I start for my usual seat on the side. I stand instead in my new place, at the head of the long table. It feels familiar, and any doubt I felt falls away. I look around at the top tier of my organization, at these people I consider my own family. I respect them enough to tell them the truth, but I have to level a warning along with it. A warning I hope to God isn’t necessary.

“Thank you for coming on short notice. As I’m sure you know, my father was gunned down this afternoon. I know who did this, and retribution will be swift. I expect to report to you in twenty-four hours or less that the threat to our organization has been eliminated. Any of you who are in contact with Grigo, put your phone on the table. Dante will look through it, put some software on it to monitor your messages until this is over. There is no choosing sides, because the only side is the Falconari Organization. I will uphold my father’s and grandfather’s legacy and expand our territory. Please understand that family is everything, and everyone at this table is family.”

Two men push their phones onto the table toward Dante who takes them and does his IT thing. I look around into the eyes of every man at the meeting. One by one they come to me and pledge their loyalty, offer their condolences. I thank them, and after they file out of the room, I ask for a minute alone. Gino says he’ll be right outside the door. I sit down in the big leather chair that’s always been my dad’s, right at the head of the table, taking the seat that was always meant to be mine. I feel so damn tired down in my bones. Weary from the hell this day has put me through. I need a drink and about ten hours of sleep. I know I’ll be lucky if I get any later on tonight.

Reports come in nonstop on the movements of Grigo’s team and the progress on finding the man himself. I pace the floor, edgy,and if it weren’t for Gino, I would hit the streets myself, run him down and take a Louisville Slugger to him in an alley. That’s what I want to do, not sit behind a desk right now. I’m not good at waiting. Never have been.

I get the feeling something isn’t right. Not about the hunt for Grigo. That’s going to plan. I tell Gino. “You’re just antsy cause it’s a shitty day, and you haven’t eaten anything. Want me to get you something?”

“Nah,” I say. I flip through my phone, the notifications going off constantly. Friends of friends offering their condolences on my loss, asking if there’s anything they can do. I keep muting people, leaving the chat. Anyone who isn’t charged with bringing in my father’s killer goes straight to voicemail.

When I get a message from a number I don’t know, I glance at it before deleting it unread. Probably some scammer, I think ruefully.

It’s not a scammer. It’s Mrs. Cooper, Daisy’s mother.

We’re at the police station down by the primary school. Daisy needs you here.

A jolt of memory hits me. She said she needed me, that I had to come to a school. Something about a kid. She was beside herself frantic. I don’t know what it’s about, but I know for damn sure that if Mrs. Cooper thinks Daisy needs me bad enough, she’d message me, so I’m going down there.

“Gino, looks like you and me are going to the cop shop,” I tell him.

23

DAISY

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